


Things Change

by Tazii



Series: Nuts & Volts Week [5]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nuts & Volts Week, bed sharing, playing with hair, soft villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22692712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tazii/pseuds/Tazii
Summary: If Arthur went his entire life without someone’s touch he would have beenperfectly happy.In fact it would have been the preferred outcome. It wasn’t like he needed it. Certainly never craved it. He wouldn’t have been missing out. Even now Arthur personally believes it wasn’t necessary.If things didn’t change he would have been perfectly content.But things did change.As such, Arthur had to adapt.
Relationships: Tyrian Callows/Arthur Watts
Series: Nuts & Volts Week [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627864
Comments: 5
Kudos: 65
Collections: Nuts and Volts Week 2020





	Things Change

**Author's Note:**

> I believe this is my shortest fic out of all of them. But it's also one of my favourites, so hopefully you all enjoy too!

Arthur had always slept alone. Was comfortable with it really. He’d never craved the same sort of affection others did. Even in his younger days he’d been adverse to touch. _Especially_ those days. 

An ‘emotionally stunted child’, he’d been called. Uncomfortable with close proximity and apathetic to others’ attempts to include him.

He never exactly had _friends_. Not because he thought himself above them- though that mentality certainly grew overtime- but because of a simple disinterest in it. He could make them if he really wanted to. He wasn’t an awkward child. No, people gravitated towards him. He’d always been charming and sharp with his tongue.

He just didn’t like them. Didn’t like the white noise and unwanted touches. Didn’t like people encroaching in on his personal space as children tended to. Disinterest turned to aversion. Aversion to disgust. _Then_ the superiority complex had its true kick-start.

If Arthur went his entire life without someone’s touch he would have been _perfectly happy_.

In fact it would have been the preferred outcome. It wasn’t like he needed it. Certainly never craved it. He wouldn’t have been missing out. Even now Arthur personally believes it wasn’t necessary. 

If things didn’t change he would have been perfectly content.

But things did change.

As such, Arthur had to adapt. 

Tyrian gave a low hum in his sleep, a sure sign that he was dreaming of something pleasant. With him the options were endless.

He could be dreaming of murder and massacre.

Could be of the loved ones of those he’d murdered suffering and hating him in silence.

Could be the fear he instilled into Cinder’s pawns as he poisoned and blackened their hearts.

Could be of Grimm or his Goddess herself.

Could be about a frog he’d caught and showed Arthur so proudly, like a cat offering their master a gift.

Could be what he’d eaten before crawling into Arthur’s bed.

Could be–

“Arth’rr~”

_Him._

That seemed to be one of the major repeating topics of Tyrian’s dreams. 

Tyrian’s arms coiled tight around Arthur’s hips as he drew himself in, his leg forcefully lodged between Arthur’s as he slowly rubbed his cheek against Arthur’s chest. 

Tyrian was… _clingy_.

While Arthur had a tendency to sleep perfectly straight on his back, Tyrian was the kind to twist his body in ways that should cause some strain in his body. 

While Arthur was perfectly happy with an empty bed, Tyrian could never seem to remain in his own. 

Oh so slowly Tyrian had moved bits and pieces of his belongings into Arthur’s room. Not that it was all that much. Ever devoted to his self-imposed religion, he claimed to not need _’worldly possessions’_.

That didn’t explain the line of smooth oddly coloured rocks Tyrian had arranged on his shelves in some order only he understood. Nor the stacks of poetry books that didn’t really fit with Arthur’s crime novels. Nor the neatly pinned butterflies he’d encased in glass that he’d rant on and on about because Arthur would let him.

He never asked to move his possessions in. It just happened bit-by-bit. He thought he was so incredibly _sneaky_. Admittedly, he really was. Sometimes it took Arthur hours to really pinpoint _what_ was off about his room. What shifted or what was added. 

Arthur always hated his things being touched or, even worse, _moved_. At first it did bother him.

_Until it didn’t._

Until he accepted it. Even welcomed it. 

It was like a game. He’d stroll into his room and take a moment to take it in. To search his collections until he found the one thing Tyrian had introduced to their room that day.

 _Their room_.

He’d accepted that too. It was a little hard not to with Tyrian crawling into his bed every night. When half the belongings in the room belonged to the other body in his bed, at some point he had to accept the room wasn’t really _his_ anymore.

Even Arthur wasn’t just his own anymore.

Every night was the same. Tyrian would nudge his way under Arthur’s blankets and slot himself neatly into Arthur’s space. He’d wrap his arms around his torso so hard it would force the breath from his lungs. He’d pry Arthur’s legs apart just to entangle them with his own. He’d press his face to Arthur’s chest or throat. Whatever felt most comfortable for the night. 

He’d crowd Arthur until any shred of personal space was completely shattered and there was only _them_.

Arthur wasn’t sure when he’d started to grow comfortable with it. _Enjoyed_ and welcomed it. All he knew was Tyrian never seemed comfortable if they didn’t.

Tyrian always fell asleep first, sapping the warmth from his bedmate and melting against his body. And Arthur would lay there and contemplate.. just that. 

When he thought about it too much he couldn’t help but note the oddity of it all.

Tyrian was selectively affectionate. 

He’d come to Salem for physical comfort. Hazel, from time-to-time, though their moments usually involved two brief pats on the head before both were apparently sated. Other than that, Tyrian never sought physical release. Not in the positive sense at the very least. 

Now he seemed _dependant_ on it. Sleeping without Arthur was unthinkable which made Arthur wonder just what Tyrian did before they grew… _close_.

Was Tyrian used to sleeping with others as a child? Did he have friends? Did he play touch-based games without that aversion Arthur always did?

Or was he so incredibly selective?

Just like him?

“D’cter~” Tyrian cooed in his sleep and Arthur felt Tyrian’s nails bite into his skin. 

Tyrian’s face turned to rub his nose along Arthur’s chest and Arthur raised an arm to thread fingers through long loose hair.

He played with the strands between his fingers, twisting and twirling, making sure not to pull too hard. The moment he started to play with impossibly long hair Tyrian’s nails lifted from his skin with a soft sigh. Tyrian’s breath warmed his skin and Arthur breathed in deep in turn.

Feeling Arthur move under him, Tyrian began to roll. Arthur simply let him, watching silently as Tyrian’s arms relocated. He pulled himself up on top of Arthur’s body and managed to dislodge his leg from between Arthur’s. With Tyrian’s chest pressed to his belly, Arthur could _feel_ a brief growl vibrate from his sleeping bedmate before Tyrian managed to hook his leg under Arthur’s knee. 

Something rounded and metal nudged the side of Arthur’s waist and Arthur instantly lifted his hips to allow Tyrian’s tail to slip beneath him. 

He was quietly thankful that he’d managed to convince Tyrian to disconnect his prosthetic at night. While his control with it was immaculate when conscious, it was less than stellar when Tyrian was sound asleep. Especially when he started getting possessive of the body beneath him.

Even if it weren’t for the poison, Arthur had no interest in getting stabbed in his sleep.

Tyrian’s head nudged up against Arthur’s chin, knocking his jaw and making his teeth clack together. Arthur grunted at the pain but Tyrian only rubbed his face against Arthur’s throat and _purred_.

Finally settled once again, Arthur returned his hand to Tyrian’s hair, idly threading it between his fingers as Tyrian’s breathing settled.

Warm and soft; in complete contradiction of everything he was in his waking hours.

And Arthur was sure he was a fool, because for some reason far beyond him he loved Tyrian on both sides of his extremes.

Tyrian’s arms wrapped just under Arthur’s until breathing was difficult and Arthur only delighted in it. He felt each bump and ridge of Tyrian’s tail, infused with the technology Arthur had built into it, and Arthur gladly let him have his way. 

Tyrian had wedged himself into Arthur’s space to the point that Arthur too could no longer imagine what it was like to sleep alone.

**Author's Note:**

> The wonderful scrumpylikesthings drew some amazing art based on this fic, [so please go check it out and give her some love!!](https://scrumpylikesthings.tumblr.com/post/190843887851/nutsandvoltsweek-day-7-free-day-bed-cuddles)
> 
> Thank you everyone who read this! And an extra thank you for any comments and/or kudos!!
> 
> If you'd like to catch me elsewhere, you can find me on: [Tumblr](https://taziidcvil.tumblr.com/)


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